2 The Judas Kiss (7 page)

             
“I realize that, and if it hadn’t been for the…” her voice got tense for a moment and she shook her head, “for your tragedy,” she continued, “I probably would have told you sooner.  Can you at least try and understand why I kept my mouth shut for so long?”

             
“Is that why you stopped coming around or calling?”

             
Stella hesitated, backing away from Ben slightly.  “That, among other reasons.  I’m being followed, I think, by someone.  I can’t tell you who or why, but I went and saw Mark yesterday and he’s being followed as well.”

             
“Yeah he mentioned something like that,” Ben said, irritation coloring his voice.  “That priest, or whatever he was, told me I had to protect Mark and Judas.”  Ben snorted and shook his head.  “I don’t know what the hell he expects me to do.  Obviously I failed at protecting my sister, and Mark is fully capable of protecting himself and his friend.”

             
“Mark needs help,” Stella insisted.  “I swear to you, if these weren’t dire circumstances, I would not be asking you to get back into this situation, but there’s not really any other option.”

             
“What the hell am I supposed to do that he can’t?” Ben asked, crossing his arms. 

             
“Will you at least talk to him?” Stella pressed.  “Just… just see what he has to say.”  She glanced down at her watch and then looked back up at Ben.  “I have to go, but promise me you’ll stop by and talk to him.”

             
Ben gave a small groan, but threw up his hands and shrugged.  “Fine.  I’ll stop by there a little later today.”

             
Stella gave a small smile and walked over to the small kitchen table, scribbling something down on a piece of paper.  “His address, in case you need it.”  She looked at her watch again and when she looked up, her face was a mask of concern.  “Look, I really have to go.  I’ll call you tonight; I’m in town for a couple of days.”

             
“Dinner?” Ben asked, standing up and approaching her.

             
She hesitated until Ben took her by the shoulders.  “I can’t promise, but I’ll definitely try.”

             
“Where are you staying?” he asked, feeling more bold than he had when she first arrived.  Her skin was warm under his fingers and he drew even closer to her.

             
“Hilton, downtown,” she said, her voice going soft.  “I’m not sure-”

             
But he silenced her with a kiss.  She stiffened at first, but when Ben started to pull away, she grabbed on to the front of his shirt, holding him tight.  When they broke, her eyes were brighter than they had been before, and the worry on her face was replaced with a calm, quiet smile. 

             
“I’ll call you,” she said again, and leaving Ben there in the middle of the room, she let herself out of the apartment.

             
With a frustrated groan, Ben ran his fingers back through his hair and chuckled to himself.  “Why,” he groaned as he went for his bedroom to change.  Just when he thought he was finally free of the maddening situation with those things, whatever they were, something came up.  This time it was Stella, and while Ben wasn’t even half-surprised that she knew, the disappointment of being lied to put a damper on the post-euphoria of their kiss.

             
Ben tugged on a pair of nice jeans and a sweater, ignoring his hair and toed on a pair of running shoes lying by the bedroom door without bothering to lace them up.  Grabbing his keys and phone, Ben snatched up the paper with the address and took the stairs down two by two. 

             
It was still pretty cold as Ben stepped onto the street and made his way to his car.  He noticed, as he approached, how badly he’d parked, too close to the car in front of him, with the rear of the car sticking out into the street too far.  The poor parking had been noticed by someone else, as indicated by the yellow ticket shoved under his windshield wiper.

             
Groaning, Ben yanked the ticket up and threw it onto the seat next to him.  This was his work car, and the officer who’d run the plate would have known that, and that further irritated Ben as he started up the engine.  Trying not to think about it, Ben turned on the heater, grateful that it only took a moment to warm up, and he pulled out.

             
His first stop was for an impossibly strong cup of coffee from his favorite drive-through, knowing he was going to need the energy to deal with Mark and Judas that day.  He burned several layers off of his tongue taking the first sip, but he started to feel more awake and the last remnants of his hangover were becoming a distant memory.

             
Throwing on a pair of sunglasses against the harsh mid-morning glare, Ben glanced down at the address on the seat and knew exactly where it was.  It wasn’t far, and it was a rather posh new building just north of the downtown area.  After having seen Mark’s choices in hotels during their little escapade on the road to find Judas, Ben wasn’t surprised to see Mark insisting on further luxury.

             
He wondered, as he drove, what sort of tastes he would develop if he wasn’t bound by a paycheck, a job, and the idea of mortality.  Mark seemed to have little to no regard for possessions or people, yet he seemed to crave a somewhat luxurious lifestyle.  Even his humble apartment at the school was wall to wall books and trinkets.  Ben had noticed the high-tech visual aids in the apartment as well, when Mark was pretending to be a blind man.

             
Laughing to himself for attempting to psychoanalyze a person who claimed to be immortal, Ben instead turned on the radio, nodding along to the blaring sounds of the Rolling Stones as he navigated the narrow San Francisco streets.

             
The apartment building appeared on the horizon as Ben climbed the last hill towards the newer development area.  A lot of the homes in the city, including Ben’s, were small, two-story flats, crammed together like sardines in a can.  This, however, was not.  It stood at least fifteen stories high, marring the view of the lush, green landscape behind it.  There was something else Ben noticed, the moment the building was in view.  The entire left side several stories up was black and hollow.

             
There were police cars all around, and crime scene tape blocking off several areas.  The building’s side was charred and black, but no longer smoking, indicating that whatever had happened, had been around twenty-four hours prior.

Ben found a place just a few hundred yards away and parked.  Grabbing his badge from the glove box, Ben stepped out and rushed over.  The officer on scene had a clipboard and a name Ben didn’t recognize.  He flashed his badge to the officer, who immediately stood down.

              “What happened here?” Ben asked, looking up at the damage. 

             
“Explosion around four-forty-five PM yesterday,” the young officer, whose badge read Rodriguez, said in a tense voice.  “Sorry sir, but there weren’t any reported homicides.  Why did they call you in?”

             
Ben frowned, still looking up at the building.  “They didn’t call me in.  I have a friend who lives here.”  His stomach sank as he realized that this was most likely not an accident.

             
“What apartment number?” Rodriguez asked.

             
Ben pulled out Stella’s piece of paper and glanced at it.  “Apartment fifteen-oh-seven.”  From the look on Rodriguez’s face, Ben knew immediately what apartment had blown.  “Any survivors?”

             
“From what we can tell, there wasn’t anyone in the apartment when it blew,” he replied with a shrug.  “The entire floor has been combed, and oddly no one on fourteen or fifteen were home that afternoon.”

             
Ben frowned.  “Who were the responding officers on scene?”

             
Rodriguez shrugged.  “I’m not sure, I wasn’t on duty last night and I just got here about five minutes ago.  You can check with Williams though,” he said, nodding towards another young officer who was writing furiously in a notebook.  “He has the witness list and he’s getting the building’s security footage sent over to the department.”

             
“Thanks,” Ben said and walked over to the indicated officer.  Williams looked barely old enough to drink, his hair that almost see-through natural blonde.  His skin was likely a natural pink color, but with the excitement, he was a furious shade of red.  He looked up, his blue eyes narrow, as Ben approached.

             
“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice high and slightly nasal.

             
Ben flashed his badge once more.  “Detective Ben Stanford.”

             
“Homicide?” Williams asked, sounding confused.

             
“Not on duty, I have friends who lived in the building,” Ben replied to him. 

             
“Well rest assured, sir, no one on either damaged floor was home,” Williams said, sounding somewhat irritated.

             
“Have you confirmed that with the security footage?” Ben asked, trying to keep the authoritative tone from his voice. 

             
“Not yet,” Williams answered, “but we have an eyewitness who came from the apartment.  Another detective, actually.”

             
Ben felt his stomach sink even lower and he was absolutely petrified of the answer when he asked, “Who was it?”

             
“Detective Stella Horvath.  She’s actually from San Diego County, on personal business.  She works in missing persons.”

             
“I know her,” Ben said, his voice sounding far off.  “She was a witness?”

             
“She placed the initial 9-1-1 call,” Williams said with a shrug.  “She said she was at her car when the building blew, but said that the person she went to visit wasn’t home.”

             
Ben shoved his hands into his pockets to try and hide the fact that his hands were shaking.  “Okay.  And I take it a thorough sweep of the apartment was done to make sure no one was inside?”

             
Williams gave Ben a nasty glare.  “We followed procedure. 
Sir
.”

             
Ben ignored the irritated tone and looked back up.  “How much damage?”

             
“A fair amount.  The building structure is still stable, it was a localized explosion on fifteen, remnants of the device were found in the maintenance closet at the end of the hall.  A few apartments on fourteen took some collateral damage, but nothing major.  It’s going to be a while before any of the residents will be able to come home, but the building itself should be safe.”

             
“Okay well… thank you,” Ben said. 

             
“You said you knew people who lived here?” Williams asked.

             
“Yes,” Ben said.  “If I hear anything from them, I’ll be sure to let you know.”  It was clear at this point Williams wanted to ask more questions, but Ben was finished.  He walked back to his car and drove off, not looking back at the damage.

             
His phone was burning a hole in his pocket, his desperation to call Stella pressing.  He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t told him about the explosion.  Ben didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he couldn’t believe she was responsible in any way for it.  She wouldn’t have sent him over there if she had been.

             
Unable to take it any longer, Ben pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled into a parking lot of a nearby grocery store.  He quickly dialed her number, but before it even rang, it went straight to her voicemail.  Frustrated, Ben left a clipped message for her.  “It’s Ben.  We need to talk.  Call me the moment you get this.”

             
Ben punched the end button on the phone and sat back, his head resting backwards, eyes closed.  Part of him considered going back to the apartment himself and having a look around, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea.  Though he’d been cleared of any charges from the previous incidents, Ben knew involving himself in any further crime involving Mark Roman would be a terrible idea.

             
Ben was fairly certain that Mark hadn’t used that particular name to rent the apartment, but without knowing for sure, Ben knew it was safer to keep his distance.  He picked up his phone again and dialed the number Mark had given him at the funeral.

             
The phone rang seven times before going to voicemail.  Sighing, Ben hung up without leaving a message.  Something was going on.  He didn’t think Mark and Judas were dead, but he also wasn’t completely sure they hadn’t been in the building, either.

             
It was a last-ditch effort, but Ben felt like he was going to go crazy if he didn’t get some answers, and so against better judgment, he picked up his phone a third time and dialed the private line of Greg Asclepius.  It was the middle of the day on a Thursday, so Ben wasn’t expecting the doctor to answer when he did.